


A feeling

by lonlystarship



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Not Beta Read, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:50:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23669746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonlystarship/pseuds/lonlystarship
Summary: "Everything special about you came from a bottle"
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	A feeling

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at least a year ago and posted it on tumblr. Ugh.

“Everything special about you came from a bottle.”

He’d been thinking about it for a while. He believed it, all evidence pointed towards it. Something in the back of his mind told him it would be proven wrong, but he couldn’t point out what it was. 

Currently, he was sat on the couch, zoned out with his eyes trained on something in the distance out the window. He being Steve, had his thoughts running a million miles an hour. Something was about to happen, and it wouldn’t end nicely. His head snapped towards the hall at the sound of something falling to the floor at the end where a window was. 

Tony, sitting across from him, waved it off and looked back down at his phone. Steve turned his head back to look out the window, quickly getting lost in his thoughts again. He soon had to focus back on the room, but it wasn’t the same as when he’d looked away. A familiar figure stood with them now.

~

His eyes snapped open. He didn’t know why but he had to leave. He had to go somewhere. He didn’t register how cold it was, he was too focused on the task at hand. His left arm shot straight through the steel, breaking the lock and pushing the door open. 

He stepped out, the cold cement of the floor was hard on his feet as he ran down dark hallways. His head was pounding, maybe it was the sirens coming from the low ceiling above him. Oh well, he thought, this is important. 

He could also hear shouting coming from the room he started in. He had no idea where he was going, how to get out of this maze of corridors that seemed to go on forever. 

Light in the distance, it either meant he was dying or he’d found a way out. Lucky for him, it was a window that someone had left propped open. He pulled himself up and through the window, the snow on the ground sending a shiver through his body. 

He had to run. His destination was far away though, there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it if he tried to run. So he walked, just far enough that he could see what was on the top of the building. 

He saw a helicopter, the perfect tool to get him where he needed to go. He used the window frame to step on and push himself to the roof, breaking into a run once he was up. The helicopter was left unlocked, keys in as if it was waiting for him. 

He didn’t know how he knew what to do, but he just did. He navigated the helicopter carefully, making sure he was up high enough before shooting forwards as fast as he could. He didn’t need the compass or the map, he felt the direction come to him like a primal urge. ‘West’ it called. So he went west. 

Once he was out over the ocean, he felt himself relax into the seat. He kept on a straight path for a while, no land in sight. He wondered if his instincts were wrong. That almost never happened.

He wanted to believe that he would get something good out of this, a reward of some kind, but he went against orders. That was unacceptable. He would surely be punished when he went back. If he went back. He would have to return the helicopter, so it would be inevitable.

Exhaustion, dehydration, starvation. He was being consumed by it. He’d been in the air for over a day, seen the sky change to dark and back. But he couldn’t stop, not when everything felt so wrong. So he kept moving, westward, until he saw the edges of land far off in the distance. 

Upon landing on what he assumed was a dock, he made his way towards the properly cemented ground. He was thankful for the dark, not only because of his arm, but because he knew he looked a mess and wouldn’t get a pleasant reaction from anyone he happened to pass by. He didn’t bother to smooth out his hair, cover his exposed arm, anything. This was important.

He took many unplanned turns. To be honest, all of his turns were unplanned, this whole trip had been on instinct alone. He didn’t know where he was, but he had to get to his destination as soon as possible. No negotiation.

He stopped walking when he got to the front of a tower, 'this is it" he thought. He considered going for the door, but he'd be stopped as soon as he stepped inside. Oh well, that's the only way up.

He circled around the building once to make sure, spotting a well disguised fire escape that went up to the higher levels. Opting for that seemed like the best thing to do to avoid being shot on sight.

He was most of the way up the tower when he suddenly stopped. A window was propped open, just an inch but it was enough for him to get his fingers under the edge and pull it the rest of the way open.

He swung a leg over the windowsill and winced when his foot hit a wooden end table. He peered in and saw he was entering an empty hallway. He paused and listened, no movement in the surrounding rooms.

He hauled himself the rest of the way in, minding the end table and landing softly on the floor beside it. He quietly listened at every door, making sure nothing was going to get in his way while he was here.

He approached the end of the hall and peered around the corner. Two men sitting across from eachother. One curled up on a couch, seemingly zoned out staring at the window. The other sitting on an armchair and staring at a tablet. They sat in complete silence, the sound of the rain hitting the window being the only noticeable noise.

He slowly moved across the room to stand in front of the man with the tablet. In one swift move, he had him by the throat, his feet barely brushing the floor. 

A rush of memories washed over him in this moment. Memories of a small boy, blonde, skinny, a voice too deep to match the face it belonged to. His voice slipped into an old accent he'd forgotten he had as he spoke in a gravelly whisper.

"I heard you was trash talkin' my Stevie while I was away. You shoulda known better than that."

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on tumblr @/lonelystarship  
I don't really post marvel anymore but it's there if you dig


End file.
